


The Boyfriend Experience

by toesohnoes



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, M/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-25
Updated: 2011-10-25
Packaged: 2017-10-24 23:12:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/268948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toesohnoes/pseuds/toesohnoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once a month McCoy treats himself to an evening with Chekov, a very expensive escort.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Boyfriend Experience

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BrighteyedJill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrighteyedJill/gifts).



The boy is so young that McCoy feels guilty just looking at him. He shouldn't be here in a strange man's bed, crawling into his lap like he's desperate to be there. It's all an act, McCoy knows that; the desire in the kid's big blue eyes isn't for him. It's for the thick wad of cash sitting in its white envelope near the door.

McCoy's hands trail over the milk-white skin of Chekov's flanks. He feels unnaturally large and brutal as he touches him; he could snap the fragile ribs beneath his palms with one good squeeze, but Chekov smiles and watches him, his lips floating just a breath away from McCoy's own.

"It's okay," he promises, the ridiculous Russian accent swamping his voice. He's putting it on, McCoy thinks. He has got to be putting that on - he sounds as if he's stepped straight out of a porn flick. "Is okay. Relax, please? For me."

Chekov's hands rest on McCoy's chest, his cold fingers stroking through his chest hair and up over his shoulders. It's just the right pressure to make McCoy groan and sink back against the pile of pillows stacked against the headboard. "For you," he mutters cynically, but it's hard even for someone like him to stay hostile while Chekov is balanced in his lap, his hands stroking careful circles over McCoy's chest, palms lingering for just a moment over his peaked nipples before moving on.

"You are terribly tense," Chekov scolds, frowning as if McCoy does this just to annoy him. "Have you been working too hard again?"

McCoy chuckles, allowing his eyes to fall closed. He's getting hard (with a horny teenager in his lap, there's no other option) but right now he just wants to enjoy being touched - other than professional engagements at work, monthly sessions with Chekov are the only occasions where he can enjoy human contact. "Much too hard," he agrees. "Good thing I got you."

"Very good," Chekov says. The W on his V never fails to send a spike of arousal through McCoy's body. He groans again and allows his hands to settle on Chekov's bare hips, grinding up against him. "Impatient today?"

"It's been a long month," McCoy answers. That doesn't even begin to cover it.

"I'm here now." Chekov leans down and kisses him, gentle at first until McCoy presses up against him - then his lips part and McCoy's tongue pushes inside his mouth, tasting mint and little else. He tangles one fist in the tight curls at the back of Chekov's head, holding him still as he invades. Chekov's mouth is warm and perfectly accepting: he always seems to know exactly how McCoy wants it, no matter how much his tastes change.

He also knows just when it's time to stop, just when it's time for him to push McCoy back against the cushions once more and slide down his body. His eyes are greedy and delighted as he takes in the sight of McCoy's engorged cock. It's as if he's never seen it before, or as if he's been hungering for it all month.

As Chekov slides his tongue over him, root to tip then down again, McCoy allows himself to imagine that that is exactly what it's been like; for the entire four weeks since they last saw each other, Chekov has only been thinking about him, has been waiting for this night just as desperately as McCoy has. Doesn't matter if he's been with other clients, doesn't matter how many men he's made feel special, McCoy can tell himself that it is different with him, and he can even almost believe it.

Chekov finally swallows him down, taking him deep inside that sweet mouth and working him just the way McCoy likes it - nice and slow, drawing it out, letting McCoy sink into the heat and sensation while Chekov's hands stroke up and down his thighs. McCoy loves the sound of it, the wet, obscene slurp and suck as Chekov works him up.

He plants his feet on the bed and pushes up into Chekov's mouth, knowing Chekov will allow it, knowing he's paid good money for the privilege. His hand clutches the curls of Chekov's head as he starts to fuck into Chekov's waiting mouth. Chekov looks up at him, blue eyes shadowed by his lashes, and McCoy can barely stand the intensity of his gaze, the sheer sexual mischief waiting there. He closes his eyes and pants as he feels himself drawing closer and close, his cock sliding down Chekov's throat with every thrust into his mouth.

He starts swearing, only half aware of what he's even saying, as he feels his body tighten and his balls tingle. Chekov's tongue drags hot and wet on the underside of his cock every time he pushes up, but it's the way Chekov groans around him in delight that makes him really lose it - the way Chekov sounds like he's having the time of his life down there, like there's nothing he likes more than taking everything McCoy's got.

He lets loose in Chekov's mouth, spunk flooding out as his back arches and mind-numbing pleasure shoots through his body. He sags back against the bed as Chekov pulls off and swallows before cleaning him up with kitten-neat flicks of his tongue. Watching through hooded eyes, McCoy thinks the experience is worth every goddamn cent.


End file.
